I wrote this while on a cruise… I can’t explain why, per se. But as I sat writing long-hand, my practice shall we call it, daily typically though while on vacation only when motivated, this is what came out. (Two hours later I was so mesmerized by the sea and my own b.s. that I had gotten in to a tif with my girl because I was, once again, lost in my world, my writer world, where the outer world moves and I stay put in mine.) The trip ended quite badly actually as I was oblivious I was on a trip with anyone else buy my pen for a few hours. Ah, we live and we learn.
So while seemingly harsh, and the start of one very unfortunate last-night-of-the-vacation fights, this is one of my most favorite little blips about writing in a while. Please don’t misread me or it, (I’m not really a hard ass!) And I don’t mean to rant, though that happens..and more in the spring when I bloom like the flowers. Only my bloom is lightening fast as i get manic and fly out of my seed. This is merely an echo of sentiment from the very first speech, from the very first author, who I heard; and how it resonated with me.
Only, this is my version. The Wendy one. I cut and pasted it from Good Reads which is where i origionally posted it. Then I took it down and thought ‘Oh my God, what ARE these people going to think of me, anyway?’ Well, I should be thinking more of ‘Oh my God, why couldn’t i SHUT-UP at the hair salon today?’ And it was a new one, one I liked. One I’m almost too embarassed to go back to. I think she mistook my depression for the wrong reaction of ‘I don’t like your work’….which is 100% the opposite. I lOVE what she did. And I think she took my manic babble as I am doing well, or cheery, and therefore should have been bubbly so I must not have liked the cut/highlights because I clearly wasn’t jumping up and down like the teen before me – with her mom no less.’ Geez. Or I could be way off and she got a text from her new hubby and had to run off. Or go to the bathroom. Either way, it DID NOT END WELL. I love my haircut though; it beats my frayed ends stabbing me from all angles.
Oh, right, my reason for this blog. (Sorry to bother….)
“The artistic bend is a sell-out. It’s all truth, or it’s no good. EIther write what’s in the heart, all of it, the good, the bad, the ugly, the uglier, the privat and even more private and it’s a book worth reading. Not willing to go there? Do yourself and the world a favor: Don’t write it until you’re ready to do so. Only then is it your truest artist being heard. And only then will the world want to hear what you have to say.”
I hope that you are nodding and not throwing food at the screen. Not ready to spill your guts? Wait, I say. At least until that person dies or you get over your pride. Screw the world anyway. WHo cares?
Rock it! And let us read it. Warning: writing and producing a book is a Bitch! But if ink runs in your veins like blood, you’ll know it and have no other choice. Wish me luck on sanity. I can already feel the changing of the tides. Gulp.